


Oh mercy, I implore

by BeesKnees



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta's Hunger Games, Annie Cresta-Centric, F/M, Finnick Odair-Centric, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, Victory Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wouldn't want Annie to think she's stolen something that doesn't belong to her," Snow tells Finnick.</p>
<p>On her Victory Tour, Finnick Odair evaporates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh mercy, I implore

Annie Cresta has learned a lot about Finnick Odair since her Hunger Games. She can confess to having been part of a group of girls who all obsessed over Finnick. She had always been happier listening to her friends' whispers though. She knew Finnick Odair was good-looking and could admit that, but her level of appreciation was little compared to most people she knew. District Four loved Finnick Odair; he brought them an unparalleled level of respect and competition in the Hunger Games. He performed with flair and panache.

(Annie Cresta is the inverse of that. She is the not the pride of her district.)

Finnick Odair at home is nothing like Finnick Odair in the Capitol. He hates the Capitol, actually, and she doesn't understand why he decides to live there half the year.

As they go into her Victory Tour, she feels like, as much as she's learned about Finnick, the less she understands about him. 

He's the only person who makes her feel like a human being anymore. She's in love with him, although she hasn't brought herself to tell him. She learns that she prefers Finnick Odair when his hair isn't full of product, but salt-encrusted from swimming. She prefers when his feet are full of sand. She prefers him in early morning hours when he's sleepy and smiles genuinely.

On her Victory Tour, that Finnick Odair evaporates. She barely sees him.

They're in the Capitol, and she's glad to be almost done with the whole experience. She wants to hide. After nearly every speech she's given (barely given, mumbled through each word, no eye contact with anyone), she's disappeared to some quiet corner, hands over her ears, eyes snapped shut. Finnick finds her every time.

For the Capitol, her outfit is overdone. She wears a long blue, iridescent dress that seems to change color in the light. Her hair is down, but blown out, rolling in soft waves down her back. They've sewn strands of pearls into it, a seashell or starfish here or there to heighten the effect. They've put her in strange gloves, golden fishnet that doesn't cover her fingers and goes halfway up her arm. Over that, there's a layer of something that looks almost like glittering sand, glued to her skin. More pearls and shells are glued on top of that. The whole thing is topped off with a pearl necklace and earrings. They paint her lips a dark shade of blue to match the dress, so that when Annie looks into the mirror, she thinks she's looking at a version of herself that _did_ drown in the Hunger Games.

She feels ridiculous. But when she steps out to where Finnick is waiting, he stops so openly that she feels suddenly shy. 

His outfit is no better than hers. He wears a white suit that has a blue trim to match her dress. He has no shirt underneath and his chest is swathed heavily with the same glittery sand substance that covers her arms. His goes down his stomach, trailing off around the line of his pants. (She flushes for an instance when she realizes where she's looking, which is obviously the intended effect of such a line.) She looks back up at his face, and that's no better. His lips are painted a pale gold, and there's – is it sand? – on top.

“Brown sugar,” Finnick says ruefully, pulling two fingers along his lower lip. He holds it out to her. She licks his fingers without thinking it. Her flush, if possible, goes darker, but he just smiles. 

“Ready?” Finnick asks, offering her his arm. She wants to say no, but she has no choice. She accepts his arm as the doors to the main room open. Quiet applause washes over them. Finnick, as always, smiles as if he can charm the entire room. (He can. But this smile is fake.) 

Music cues up. Finnick leads them into the center and they open up the dancing. His arm is warm and reassuring against her. It's the longest they've been together since the start of the tour, and Annie badly wants to cling to him. She can't move comfortably in this dress, but he guides her easily. It's almost enough for her to forget that there are hundreds of people watching them.

“Make sure you get plenty of cake tonight,” he teases low into her ear; he sounds almost like the Finnick she's come to know. 

“Will I have to fight you for it?” she asks, smiling for the first time in what feels like weeks. 

“You might,” he warns. Something changes on his face, his smile turning from plastic to genuine. 

Her stomach goes liquid and warm. (That's right. He's far kinder than he pretends to be. She doesn't know why he hides that side of himself. It's the part of him she likes best.) 

Her thoughts are almost immediately broken up as a woman steps up beside them, resting a hand on Finnick's arm. She has to be twice their age, and eyes Finnick openly. Her gaze traces an obvious line, lingering on the sugar on his lips and the designs drawn to his waist. 

Finnick lets go of her. (And Annie wants to plead, no, wait, just a minute more.) Finnick smiles back at her. (Regretfully? Or fake again? Annie can't tell.) He steps away, wrapping his arms around the other woman. He says something to her right away, and she laughs, too loud. Annie's heart sinks. 

Belatedly, it occurs to her that she's stranded in the middle of the dance floor with no partner. She starts to look around, feeling lost – when President Snow steps up next to her. A quiet chill floods her veins, running counterpoint to everything Finnick makes her feel. She wants to run from this man as fast as she can. (Which won't be fast at all, not in these heels.) But, again, she has no choice, and accepts the president's hand, dreading how he also pulls her in close. (She can smell the strange scent that always clings to him. In all her worst nightmares of the games, that smell always lingers.)

“You look lovely tonight, Miss Cresta,” Snow says, empty words. 

“Thank you,” Annie manages to say, the words practically a whisper.

Laughter floats across the dance floor. Without meaning to, she finds her eyes drawn back to Finnick. 

“Your mentor,” Snow says abruptly. Annie's eyes snap back to him. Snow just smiles – knowingly.

“He's done very well for himself, hasn't he?” Snow continues. Annie doesn't know how to answer. She's moving too slow now. Her feet ache already. Her arms itch from the fake sand. 

“Shall I tell you why that is?” Snow asks. The corners of his mouth have gone red. Still Annie cannot speak, even when Snow leans in, even closer.

“He's not what you think he is,” Snow says, low. “He's quite the gifted liar.” 

Annie stops moving completely. (It isn't her fault. Her body won't work. Everything has frozen up. She wants to shout, wants to yell, that Snow is the liar. But even more, she wants Finnick. She wants her Finnick. But he's gone. Disappeared from the room no matter how many times she scans it.)

She sinks down against the cold floor of the room, and doesn't care that everyone's staring at her. (Crazy, they say. Absolutely mad. And she doesn't know how to say it isn't her that's mad. It isn't. It's this world they live in.)

…

Finnick pushes himself off the floor of the library and looks for his suit jacket, which has ended up underneath the desk. He's just begun to shrug it on when the door to the library opens. He glances over his shoulder. 

President Snow stands in the doorway, appraising him. Finnick finishes putting the jacket on, adjusts the collar. By the time he turns to face the president, Snow has shut the door again.

“Sir,” Finnick says. He considers trying to walk past him, but he can see how this will play out already. Snow will catch his arm. Finnick will stop. And then Finnick will take a step back, putting him approximately in the position where he now stands. So, instead, Finnick just remains where he is.

“Mr. Odair,” President Snow responds. (Finnick can practically see him coiling, snake-like, preparing for the strike.) They both pause as Finnick waits for him to continue. (He wonders what he's done wrong. At 20, he's developed a reputation for being a well-behaved victor. He has too many family members to be able to afford reminders from President Snow.)

“I would take greater care of your victor, Mr. Odair,” Snow warns, although his voice is still amicable. 

Annie. _Annie_.

Finnick stares impassively back at Snow. 

“You wouldn't want her to think she's stolen something that doesn't belong to her.” 

Finnick can't remember how to breathe. He'd been careful, he'd thought. He doesn't think that even Annie knows the extent of how much he cares for her. He's seen the way she looks at him. She wears her emotions for almost everyone to see. Despite that, he'd thought they'd be make it through the tour. (After all, he's Finnick Odair. Anyone can love him. The crime is him returning that love.) 

Finnick knows he should say something. He should laugh the matter off. But nothing is coming to him. He feels small, like a child. 

“She's a nice young woman,” Snow continues, as if this is a normal conversation. He steps even closer and adjusts Finnick's collar. (Finnick knows it's even, but Snow tugs at it anyway.)

“It'd be a shame for her to throw her life away on a lie,” Snow presses, staring at him. “Someone of your … status,” _Whore_ , Finnick thinks, but that's a word Snow never uses, “doesn't get married or have a family, does he?”

“No, sir,” Finnick answers quietly.

Snow smiles. 

“Have a wonderful rest of your evening, Mr. Odair,” Snow finishes. 

He lets go of Finnick and heads back toward the door. Finnick is left alone in the library. He glances at the grand clock, which shows he has another 15 minutes until his next appointment. He settles back against the top of the desk, exhaustion wracking every bone in his body. He feels older than he really is. He tries not to think of Annie (of how she had glowed, just for an instant, when they were dancing together. And how, really, what he wants is to be at home, dancing with her. When she's wearing an oversized sweater and jeans with holes in the knees. When her hair is a mess, but she's actually there). 

He can't keep her. He can't even really help her for that matter. What she needs, he knows, is to get as far away from the Capitol and the memory of her games. And he's a part of both of those things. 

He scrubs a hand over his face. The sugar is already gone from his lips.


End file.
